


Fallen Perceptions

by XHazelDreamsX



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Dry Sex, Feral Behavior, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:40:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26726830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XHazelDreamsX/pseuds/XHazelDreamsX
Summary: Witchers aren't suppose to lust nor fall in love or show any resemblance of a emotion. It was a sign that they were growing feral, monstrous, and they needed to be put down.After all, everyone knows the story of that one Witcher who went feral and murder a village but not before brutally raping all the women.Jaskier knew that, heard it time and time again, and while following Geralt...he had come to realize that the story wasn't as true as everyone believed(not that he ever believed it anyway.)Sure there was a feral side to Witchers but it wasn't as bad to extend to a whole town, at least he doesn't think so.Jaskier however, has found out what it's like to be prey and knows he’ll never be able to smile the same way again.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 3
Kudos: 84





	Fallen Perceptions

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thanks for checking this work out! I appreciate it! Due to a personal problem I am unable to fully check this over for any typos so please excuse any for the moment! I promise I’ll be back for them!
> 
> Happy readings!

"I heard there's a brothel here," he slid a glass of ale across the table and Geralt grabbed it effortlessly. "Best one in on Continent, at least they claim. I think every brothel does though so we really can't-"

Geralt makes a cut off noise somewhere between shut up and irritation. His eyes advert and he proceeds to just stare into his ale. "I have no interest in such matters bard."

"Ah, are you mad? You haven't referred to me as a bard in quite awhile. Here I was thinking we were actually friends and then-"

He can feel it. The sudden gaze of all the tavern goers. Like their waiting for something and if Jaskier had half a mind he'd tell them to mind their manners. This isn't any of their business.

"No," Geralt sips on his ale.

"No we're not friends or no you're not mad."

"Does it matter?"

Yes. It does. Jaskier opens his mouth to say as much but Geralt does first.

"Don't take it personally, Jaskier. Witchers don't have such needs of lust."

Jaskier who had been flirting with this Witcher for the better part of five years, was shocked beyond words. Because One, Geralt certainly looked at his naked body more than once while they bathed, Two Geralt had certainly gotten morning wood while they slept together, and Three Geralt was a man beyond other things. Being a Witcher doesn't void that part out.

He opened his mouth to protest the suggestion because obviously, Geralt has lost his mind. He's surely saw Geralt peering into a few brothels before but he never- he never outright refused. He usually just went to a job, made an excuse.

Geralt puts a hand on Jaskier's shoulder and drags him out of the tavern.

...

He can't say he's ever seen Geralt flirt with anyone. Can't even say he's seen Geralt or heard Geralt taking care of that pesky morning wood.

He can't even say he's seen Geralt show any interest at all in sex openly.

...

"Is this about that stupid campfire story? The one with that Witcher who went feral?"

The sun starts to set and Jaskier removes a layer of clothes as he approaches the river next to their camp. Geralt had been brooding ever since they had gotten back.

Jaskier however was sporting a hard-on underneath his underwear and was sorely disappointed by the lack of women in his pants. Surely Geralt could have just let him go, alone, but Jaskier wouldn't feel right leaving Geralt like this all alone.

Hurt.

Geralt looked absolutely hurt.

"You know I don't believe that hogwash right?" He tossed off his shirt. "Besides it's okay if you don't like that sort of thing. Not everyone is into sex." He removed his bottom and slipped into the river. 

"It's not that," Geralt finally spoke for the first time since they had returned to the campsite.

Jaskier dunked himself underneath the water for a moment. Listening to the bubbling of a few fish, the darkened shapes swimming along the water, and he smiled before popping his head up. Only to almost bop his head on Geralt's manhood.

He didn't even hear Geralt step into the water nor did he even hear him get undress. Although he ignores all that because they always bathe together and just gives a stupid smile.

Geralt however doesn't look very pleased, in fact, he looks to be in a rather sour mood. As his eyes are dull, his lips a thin line, and as he sits down beside Jaskier his hands twitch at his side.

"I was worried you weren't going to join me tonight," Jaskier said, sliding his knees against Geralt's knees. Feeling the tremble underneath, as he barely makes out the shape of Geralt's manhood underneath the water, how it's starting to grow.

"Could be that you simply don't lust for women?" Jaskier poses the question, his hand sliding up Geralt's thigh, itching his way to his dick that was reacting quite beautifully but unfortunately Geralt grabbed his hand and stopped him.

"That isn't it either. Gender isn't a thing I concern myself with. However...that campfire story, there is some truth to that."

Geralt pushes Jaskier on his back. He yells a sharp yelp as rocks dig into his back. "Geralt- what?"

...

Lips touch his, forcefully. There wasn't anything romantic about it and Jaskier's poetic heart died a little inside. Not that he hates it entirely, he can't count the times he's imagined Geralt holding him down, digging his teeth into his neck.

"Geralt?"

A hand slips underneath his bottom propping him up. "This is all so sudden! Shouldn't we go on a date first?" 

Geralt growls and for the first time, Jaskier realizes that he's staring into the eyes of someone else. It was Geralt on top of him for sure but this wasn't him. Geralt didn't do things like this, Geralt didn't look at him with this dull lust-filled expression. Geralt didn't look at him that way at all despite all Jaskier's pinning.

"Hey let's talk about this," he laughed, tried to make it out to be nothing. But he felt that hard flesh touch his hole and tears kissed his lips before he could even realize what was happening.

There was a simple thrust, a grunt, and then Geralt plunged his way inside without even a single thread of concern for Jaskier's well being. He cried, sobbed, there wasn't anything else he could do but flail his arms against Geralt's chest and beg him to stop.

There was no preparation.

There was no love behind that gaze of Geralt's eyes.

Geralt flips him over, holding his back down as he thrusts in and out. Each time more seamlessly than the last because of his own blood. 

It hurts.

He's going to die.

He can barely keep his head above the water.

Geralt grunts, digging his nails into Jaskier's back.

...

When he awoke it was still night time and he almost sighed a breath of relief. Of course, it was just a dream, but then he moved, and he felt pain and discomfort in his butt that he had never felt before, pared with a sticky feeling and an overwhelming smell of blood. "Fuck," he whispered to himself, and then he looked around the camp.

He was in Geralt's bedroll, naked, but thinly covered by a blanket. Geralt came out from a line of trees carrying his clothes back from the river and when their eyes met, he almost felt himself die inside.

The look on Geralt's face couldn't be anything but guilt.

Geralt takes a dampened Handkerchief and walks over to Jaskier, sitting down beside the roll. "Sorry," is the first thing out of Geralt's mouth.

And for what it's worth it's the first time Jaskier's ever heard an apology from Geralt.

Jaskier doesn't say anything though. He can't. He doesn't know what he's feeling right now.

"May I clean you?" Geralt asks, gesturing to his filthy body just hidden under the blanket.

Jaskier gives a lame nod.

Geralt lifts up the blanket, before wiping down his body. When he gets to his hole, when he spreads his legs and is met with blood and semen. He grimaces.

"Only a monster would do this," Geralt said, wiping at the hole gently. "You're still bleeding."

He grasps a hand on Geralt's thigh, digging his nails into the fabric. "You aren't a monster Geralt," it's a force of habit, really. But Jaskier couldn't help himself. Even though right now his mind screams at him that this man is a monster, a beast, a threat.

"How can you even say that. Look at yourself."

Jaskier shakes his head.

He really doesn't want to know how bad it is.

It wasn't Geralt. At least that's what he tells himself.

...

"Are you going to explain?"

Geralt doesn't say anything.

"I deserve an explanation."

Geralt grunts.

"Geralt," he sighs, holding his legs close together to prevent more blood from leaving. "If I was any less of a man I'd hate you."

Geralt goes still.

"You should," Geralt finally says, standing and going opposite of the fire where he remained for the rest of the night. Unmoving, and a look of horror on his face, although really you could only tell that if you've been with him for years.

...

He does hate Geralt.

When he feels the seed drip down his leg, the pain radiating up his back. When he sticks his fingers inside himself to investigate his insides only to find blood on his fingertips when he pulls away.

He feels violated.

All he wants to do is hit Geralt. Bang his hands on his chest, yell at him again and again until his throat goes numb.

But above everything else, he just wants to forget.

...

He stays in the bedroll for the rest of the next day. Doesn't dare move and Geralt doesn't dare push him on the matter. Despite the fact that they never stay in one place too long.

"I'm sorry," Jaskier finally said, it just spewed out of his mouth while Geralt was brooding.

"What?" Geralt managed to say through clenched teeth.

"I-I riled you up and said such cruel things. It's all my fault-"

"It isn't," Geralt comes to sit by him, hand on his shoulder, bringing him into his embrace. "Don't be stupid Jaskier."

"It is though, isn't it? I bet...I mean...you were just pent up..."

"That isn't an excuse."

Geralt didn't deny it.

Jaskier goes silent.

...

"It's rather alarming when you go this long without speaking," Geralt rubs a hand down his back.

He sighs, inhaling a strong scent of Witcher. It makes his stomach curl. "I hate it when you touch me," Geralt's hands go still on his back. "I hate it when you say my name. When you look at me."

"I..."

"I hate you so much," Jaskier can't help it. Can't help that he starts sobbing and shaking in Geralt's hold. And he can't help that despite everything he still pulls Geralt in, he still holds on to him like he's his whole world. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore. I can't imagine a life without you in it but I can't imagine a life with you either. Not now."

"That's okay."

"I think it's rather cruel," Jaskier sobs, digging his nails into Geralt's back. "Everything hurts, my heart, my head, my insides. I don't think I've ever felt such raw fear before that moment. But, even so, I still- you're still- I don't want to lose you."

Geralt simply holds him and keeps holding him until there's a chill in the air and even then he doesn't stop. He only proceeds to hold Jaskier tighter and under normal circumstances he'd find it suffocating but right he just finds it calming.

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued?


End file.
